


Body Swap

by Trash_Baby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Body Swap, Dean Hates Witches, F/M, Fluff, HEX - Freeform, Humor, Hunter!Reader, Jealous Dean, Kinda, Witches, accidental Wincest, curse, take a chill pill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Baby/pseuds/Trash_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a hunt, you and Sam manage to get cursed and swap bodies - your boyfriend, Dean, isn't too pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Swap

It’s a well-known fact that Dean hates witches. Well, he hates a lot of supernatural creatures to be honest, but his hatred for witches is kept in a special place of his heart.

He _loathes_ them.

And boy was he making this fact known …

“I swear, the next time we take on a witch case I’m gonna sell my soul to Crowley just so he can obliterate the existence of witchcraft. Ugh, I hate them and their creepy voodoo, bone-crunching, Latin-chanting craziness!”

You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend’s rant, biting back your laughter as you lift your arm to wipe at your brow. The three of you had just taken down a coven of twelve witches, and to say that it had been exhausting would be an understatement. Sure, you had taken down larger groups of monsters before, but _damn_ were these witches powerful. 

“Dean, baby, go and take a breather. Me and Sam will get to work on clearing the bodies - come back and help us when you’ve calmed down.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but after you throw him ‘the look’, he immediately backs down, sulking out of the room and muttering under his breath as he polishes the side of his gun with his sleeve.

You shake your head at his retreating figure, a fond smile softening your features as you watch him leave. Turning to get to work, you freeze, a blush darkening your cheeks when you realize that Sam had been watching you the whole time. “What?” You mumble, glancing away awkwardly.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head with a smirk, bending over to move a body, before looking up at you through his hair. “It’s just funny to see how Dean behaves like a lovesick puppy around you.”

Snorting, you walk over to help Sam with the body that he’s moving. “I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘lovesick puppy’ behavior. Maybe more ‘moody teenager that just got threatened to be grounded’ behavior.”

He chuckles at your simile as he moves to the next body. “Yeah, that sounds more accurate, I  mean, you _did_ just threaten him.”

“Did not.” You throw back, eyes narrowing at the younger Winchester. 

“Yes, you did. You gave Dean the exact same look that you’re giving me. In all honesty, it’s kinda scary.”

“Shut up, giant.” You mutter, rolling your eyes as you haul at another body.

The two of you continue to bicker, throwing comments back and forth as you bite back laughter. In fact, the two of you are so engrossed in your fake-argument that neither of you notice that you had missed a witch until she’s halfway through a spell.

You grip your head, groaning, and Sam reacts similarly, staggering to the side and colliding with the wall. Through hazy vision, you catch sight of the witch, hidden in the door frame as she glares at you with a thundery expression, furious that her coven had been killed. She raises her hands, as if she was physically building up power, only for a horrific scream to leave her as a round of bullets hit her from behind.

Blood pours from her open mouth, and she sways for a moment, eyes glued to you, before she drops to the ground, dead. Dean runs in a second later, breathing heavily and eyes wide as he assesses the situation. “Is everyone okay?”

You nod slowly, one hand still clutching at your head, meanwhile Sam pushes away from the wall, shaking his head and scrunching his eyes up as if trying to push a bad thought back. The two of you nod at Dean, though you’re equally unsure as to what had just happened.

_It was only natural that their coven was made up of an unlucky thirteen members. Fuckin’ witches …_

After cleaning up the bodies, the three of you returned to your motel room, deciding to sleep the hunt away. You and Sam both sported matching headaches, and by the time you had all crawled into bed, you curled up with Dean and Sam stretched out on his own bed across the room, your limbs were tingling. 

You had shaken the feeling off, chalking it up to a long day’s hunt.

_Ah, if only …_

***

When you awoke, disorientated and confused, you immediately knew that something was up. Why were you in bed alone? Dean _never_ got up before you, and he almost always tried to get lucky with you first thing in the mornings.

You sit up slowly, glancing around the room with eyes squinted as you reach up to run your fingers through your hair, only to freeze. Your hair had been tied back when you went to bed … And why was your hair shoulder-length . . ? 

You flail in place, head whipping about as you realize that this wasn’t the bed that you fell asleep in. No, you had fallen asleep in _that_ bed, right across the room. The bed that Dean was currently in, curled up with … You? _What the ever-living fuck is going on?!_

Scrambling in bed, you almost fall to the floor when your legs - freakishly long, muscular legs clad in sweatpants - tangle with the sheets. Pushing them away, you flail for a moment, freezing when you catch sight of your hands - much larger than **your** hands, with long fingers and confident palms - before you shake your head and push up from the bed, stumbling to the bathroom across the hall.

_Why the hell am I so high up?_ You think hysterically, jumping when the bathroom door slams forcefully behind you. And why the hell am I so strong? You hurry to the mirror, confused as to how you managed to cross the room in just two strides (especially when you had to take seven steps to get to the mirror last night), and immediately freeze when you see your reflection. 

_Why the_ **hell** _am I Sam?!_

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Dean stirs in bed, his grip tightening on your body. He smirks lazily, sleepy eyes peeking open slightly, the green shards staring at your sleeping face. Leaning in, Dean presses an open mouth kiss to the back of your neck, biting back a laugh when your tied-up hair tickles the side of his face. 

Jerking his hips forward to rub his morning wood against your ass, Dean lets out a breathless moan, pressing another kiss to your neck before sucking lightly. Your body shifts, leaning closer to the sensation, only to stiffen and attempt to get away, brows furrowing.

“What the hell . . ?” Sam mumbles sleepily, though his eyes snap open at the sound of his voice. _Why do I sound like Y/N?_ His face tightens in confusion, though he is broken from his thoughts when someone rubs their crotch against his butt (speaking of his butt, why did it feel so soft . . ?), the grip on his waist drawing him back against a toned chest.

“Mornin’, baby,” A husky voice whispers, and Sam almost screams. 

“ _Dean?!_ ” He yelps, scrambling away, though Sam finds it to be a much harder task than usual ( _Why am I so … small?_ ). “Dean, what the hell are you doing?!”

Sam finally escapes the clutches of his brother, falling to the motel floor with an ‘ _oomph_ ’ as the bed sheets land on top of him, revealing Dean to have slept in nothing but a pair of boxers. Eyes wide, Sam skitters back until he collides with the wall, where he stays, trying to assess the situation, even though all he wanted to do was scream. 

“Shit, are you alright?” Dean asks as he sits up to peer at Sam over the side of the bed. His brow furrows as he takes in the complete bewilderment sprawled across his face, and, with a concern-tinted voice, he says,  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Sam snaps, before quietly muttering, “What the fuck is going on.”

Hearing a thud from the main room, you break from your trance of staring at your - no, Sam’s (or was it yours?) - reflection and leave the bathroom, throwing the door open and striding out. You freeze at the sight of Dean’s almost naked form, sat at the edge of the bed as he looks down at you … Well, not _you_ , but your body.

“Sam?” You squeak out, hand reaching up to clutch at your throat, eyes widening at how deep your voice sounded.

_“Y/N?”_ He echoes back in your voice, high and tinged with hysteria.

“What’s going on?!” You yell, arms flailing, though you become distracted by the fact that the body you’re in is _ripped_ … 

“What the fuck? Y/N, is that you?” Dean asks, eyes wide as his head snaps back and forth between the two of you. “Y/N, I swear to God if you take a piss in Sam’s body then shit will hit the fan.”

“What-” You begin, only for Dean to cut you off by pointing a finger at you.

“I’m not letting my girl touch my own brother’s dick.” He states firmly. “And put a damn shirt on.”

You yelp as you glance down to see Sam’s, well, ‘your’ bare chest, all toned muscle and smooth tanned skin. Blinking down at it, you yelp again when a shirt is tossed at you, hitting you square in the face. You fumble with the fabric, turning away and curling in on yourself as you try to get it on. 

You just know that getting a shirt on is going to be the least of your worries by the time this day is over …

***

The rest of the day is spent - mostly - in silence. Dean is a ball of tension, never opening his mouth except when he stopped off at a diner for food. He kept throwing glares at you, and then at Sam, as if he was confused as to who to blame and who was who - should he treat you like his girlfriend when you were stuck in his brothers body? And how could he treat Sam like, well, _Sam_ , when Sam looked just like you?

Dean was confused to say the least, and instead of talking about it, he bottled it up and released it as anger.

If only you could do the same. 

You were an anxious ball the entire ride back to the Bunker, your too-large fingers twisting in the fabric of your too-large shirt that somehow still managed to fit snugly on your body that wasn’t actually your body. Not to mention that you’ve been needing to pee for the last hour.

“Uh, Sam . . ?” You mumble quietly, secretly hoping that he doesn’t hear you. Of course, he does though.

“Yeah?” You hear your own uncertain voice reply.

Swallowing loudly, you shift in your seat in the back and glance to the side to Sam, who sat next to you. “I, uh, I need to …” You clear your throat, cheeks blazing as you try to think of a way to word it, gaze flickering to him before staring straight ahead. “Nothing, don’t, uh, don’t worry.”

Five minutes later though and you can’t hold it in any longer. “I need to pee.” You burst out, hands reaching up to clap over your mouth as your cheeks flare red. 

Dean pulls over so fast that the tires squeal. “Y/N, don’t you dare pee in Baby.” 

You whine, crossing your legs as you fidget, and you notice Sam doing the same thing too, his face equally flushed. _Oh, God …_

“Dean, we need to get to a bathroom.” Sam mutters, pointedly ignoring both you and Dean.

Dean whips around in his seat to stare at Sam, eyes narrowing before sliding over to you to assess the situation. His mouth opens, probably to make some comment about wanting to be a ‘perv’ on his girl, but you beat him to it. “Please, Dean.”

Biting his tongue, Dean stays still for a moment before nodding stiffly and speeding to the next gas station, where both you and Sam spill out of the car and hurry to the bathrooms. There’s some initial confusion when you automatically head for the women’s bathroom, and Sam to the men’s, however, that’s easily cleared up when a woman launches her sandal at you, all the while screaming ‘ _pervert!_ ’ at you.

The next few minutes are made up of burning cheeks and a lot of fumbling as you try to pee whilst simultaneously trying not to look at what you were doing. This proves to be a difficult task, and a lot more embarrassing than it needs to be, when the man standing neck to you tells you to not be afraid of ‘it’ - “After all, it’s not gonna bite!” He had said with a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder as he walked past.

After that, you had washed your hands and fled from the bathroom as quick as possible, shuddering as you made your way back to the Impala, finding Dean to be alone. Sliding into the back seat, you avoid his eyes that are pinned on you through the mirror, instead twisting your fingers in the shirt fabric as you wait for Sam.

“You alright?” He asks tentatively, taking note of the fact that nerves are rolling off your body is waves.

“I’m good.” You reply, nodding your head fiercely, though after a moment you quietly mutter, “The men’s bathroom is terrifying.”

“Yeah, you got that right …”

Several minutes later and Sam returns, cheeks just as red as when he had entered the bathroom. He refuses to make eye contact with either you or Dean, and after a tense few moments of silence, Dean starts Baby and drives off. 

After arriving at the Bunker, the three of you were met with another issue - sleeping arrangements. It made sense for you to sleep in Sam’s room, and for Sam to sleep in a separate room from Dean (after all, the two of you shared a room). After deciding, You and Sam headed to the library to research, whilst Dean took the opportunity to slip away and go to a bar.

Research proved to be interesting, especially when you realized that Sam organized the books in such a way that all of the books on witches were on the top shelf - something that Sam in your body couldn’t reach. Despite all the hysteria surrounding your current situation, you found it highly entertaining to use Sam’s height against him - oh, how the tables had turned, seeing Sam jump about as he tried to reach something, even if it was your body doing the jumping …

After several hours of useless searching, the two of you came up empty-handed, and the internet wasn’t much use either. Calling it a day, the two of you go your separate ways, praying for a solution.

***

When you awake, it’’s not in Sam’s room. 

Sitting up cautiously, you glance down at your hands to see your own hands, attached to your own arms which are attached to your own body. Reaching up to feel your face, you’re relieved to feel your own bone structure rather than Sam’s sharp cheekbones and strong jaw.

Falling out of bed, you slap at the wall blindly for the light switch. When you find it, you snap it on and scan the room for a mirror; as soon as you spot it, you scramble over to it, and you’re relieved to discover that it doesn’t take you three steps to cross the room, but rather nine. A bubble of relieved laughter escapes you when your own reflection stares back, messy bedhead and all.

Throwing the door open, you run out and skid down the hall, flinging the door to your’s and Dean’s bedroom open as you yell, “Dean! Dean!”

“What, what?” He yelps, sitting upright with startled wide eyes. He sweeps his gaze over the room before looking at you, eyes suspicious before he asks, “Y/N?”

“Yep, it’s me!” You cry, nodding enthusiastically as you run at the bed and launch yourself on it, landing on top of Dean. The pair of you are left momentarily winded, but that doesn’t stop you from practically jamming your tongue down his throat. “Dean, that was the weirdest fucking experience.” You mumble in between kisses as you straddle him. 

Dean pulls away for a moment, pupils blown as he takes in your messy hair and excited face, before rolling over to hover over you, pinning you to the bed as he runs his nose down the side of your face before pausing at your jaw, where he presses a line of open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

“No one is allowed to be in my girl’s body except _me_.” Dean growls, lips attacking your neck, sucking dark marks onto the sensitive skin in a display of dominance. “Especially my brother.” He mutters furiously, his kisses becoming more forceful. 

Against your will, a giggle leaves you, and you bite your lip when Dean freezes. “What’s so funny?” He grunts, breath hot against your throat. 

“N-nothing …” You murmur, though another giggle leaves you. This time, Dean pushes up so that his face is hovering above yours, eyes dark and hard as he waits for an explanation. “It’s just, it’s funny how you’re so jealous of your brother when we were literally cursed by a witch.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” He splutters, face incredulous at the mere thought, though his cheeks soon darkened when you stared up at him with raised eyebrows. “It wasn’t jealousy, I was just, I was …”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, pushing back to run a hand through his hair as he tries to think of a way to explain. Instead of waiting, you tighten your legs around his waist and sit up. Chest pressed to Dean’s, you trail your fingers up his arms until his face is cradled between your palms, and whisper, “It’s okay, Dean.” 

Pressing a kiss to his chest, you glide your fingers to rest against his back, painting imaginary patterns onto his bare skin until he relaxes in your grasp. “It’s okay, Dean,” You repeat, glancing up at him. “Things are back to normal now, which means you can show me just how much you missed me …”

He needs no further invitation before he’s pushing you back down onto the bed, eager to show you just how much he missed you.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a prompt from a friend
> 
> Originally posted on my Tumblr at - http://pie-is-deanlicious.tumblr.com/post/147968833560/body-swap


End file.
